


A Moment of Dominance

by marinablack99



Series: Moments: A Pydia Collection [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dominance, F/M, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:12:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinablack99/pseuds/marinablack99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter enlists Lydia's help to get a very intoxicated Derek home from the bar. Peter may think he's in control of the situation..but Lydia has other ideas. *RATED M FOR A REASON* Pydia!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment of Dominance

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FFN.net: 8/28/14

A thunderous crash dragged Lydia Martin out of what promised to be a very good night's sleep. Autumn had just begun and while the days were warm, a crisp chill cooled the nights. Heart pounding, she slowly reached toward the bedside drawer which was armed with everything a girl would need to defend herself: wolfsbane, mountain ash, a knife, and pepper spray. Lydia was convinced that someone had finally come to cross her name off the deadpool and she'd be damned if she would go quietly. Before she had a chance to even touch the handle, a hand snaked out and caught her wrist. Lydia opened her mouth to scream but the other hand was right there, covering her mouth. Thrashing blindly, she aimed a blow at the assailant's torso, struggling to get free.

"Lydia!" Peter snarled, his voice barely above a whisper. Lydia's mother was asleep just down the hall and he didn't intend to be dragged into the Beacon Hills sheriff's department ever again. "Relax!" He commanded, watching her expression go from terrified to annoyed. Her posture relaxed, drooping slightly. "If I uncover your mouth are you going to scream?"

Lydia shot Peter a withering look. Without answering she grasped his wrist and tugged his hand away. Pulling the blanket to cover the nightgown she was wearing, she shivered slightly. It wasn't the cold; it was pleasantly warm in the room. Peter's nearness was what affected her. Lydia gazed into Peter's cobalt eyes before peering over at the clock, "Any particular reason that you decided to visit me in my bedroom at two-thirty in the morning?" She frowned markedly.

Peter folded his arms over his chest, "I need to borrow your car."

It was clear from his appearance that he had been sleeping too until recently. He'd thrown on the clothes that had been discarded when he slipped into bed, completely naked. There was a softness about him that Lydia hadn't seen before. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "Why?"

"I have a motorcycle," Peter frowned. "I also have a nephew who's lost his power and become disgustingly human. He managed to get himself blind drunk and I need to find a way to get him home." Dragging a hand over his face, he scoffed, "Can I have the keys or not?"

Derek losing his werewolf abilities was a mystery to all of them. Lydia thought, at first, that Peter might abandon Derek since he was no longer a werewolf. What surprised her the most was how much more protective Peter became of his nephew instead. The Hale blood that ran in their veins bonded them as family, wolf or not; there was nothing thicker than blood in Peter's eyes. Still, Lydia wasn't ready to hand over her keys to the kingdom…especially not to a former lunatic. "No."

"Lydia," Peter let out a low whine of displeasure as he plopped on the edge of her bed.

"I'm not handing over the keys," Lydia replied curtly, "But I'll go with you to pick him up." Silently, Lydia cursed her schedule. She had been pulling triple duty lately between school, helping Scott and the pack, and helping her mother get ready to put the lake house on the market. Laundry was piled up in the hamper including all of her pajamas. She had rummaged through the bottom of the drawer and come up with a lacy teddy that Jackson bought her. It was presumptuous of him to buy her such slinky lingerie and she had never worn it for that very reason…but desperate times called for desperate measures. Lydia heard Peter's breath hitch in his throat as she crawled out of bed. Heat suffused her cheeks as she turned to face him, "Do you mind?"

Peter leaned back on the bed smugly and crossed his arms behind his head. "Not at all…" The pillow that smacked him in the face neither surprised or fazed him. He grinned handsomely at her, "Alright, I'll meet you downstairs." Peter didn't want to go. He wanted to trace her every curve in that wicked contraption she had on. It was royal blue and made of silk except for the lace over her breasts, almost sheer. Her strawberry blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, slightly wild. Casting one more glance back at her, he sighed and snuck back downstairs.

Lydia rifled through her closet, trying to come up with something she could throw on easily. Vowing that she would do laundry first thing tomorrow, she ended up tossing on a pair of leggings and a sweater over the lingerie. She ignored the purple stain of exhaustion beneath her eyes as she grabbed her purse and tiptoed down the stairs. Her mother slept like the dead, thankfully, and wouldn't be up for hours. Unlocking the car, she slid into the driver's seat. Peter climbed in beside her and she sighed, "So where exactly is this bar?"

"Not far," Peter explained and gave her a quick set of directions. Lydia pulled out of the driveway silently and didn't turn on the headlights until they were a few yards away from the house. Opening the window for some fresh air, Peter inhaled deeply. The soft sounds of twilight were all around them, the wind rustling through the leaves, the guttering of street lamps and the last cicadas humming in the trees. "Thank you for doing this," Peter peered over at Lydia, "I will make it up to you."

Lydia licked her lips, "Not everything has to be tit for tat, Peter. Sometimes you can do a favor for someone without expecting anything in return." Silence hung between them for a moment. "It sucks that you couldn't get a cab to pick him up…" There was more silence, "You did try calling a cab, right?" Lydia let out an indignant scoff, "Peter!"

Peter thundered, "I am not exactly familiar with drunk phone calls from my family, Lydia. The majority of my family were born werewolves and we couldn't get drunk. Those who were not died in a fire long before they would've ever gotten close to experimenting with alcohol." His voice was gruff and his posture tense, "I did not want to take any chances with the life of my only living nephew when there is a deadpool out there with half my family on it!" Peter gritted his teeth, "I am sorry to be such an inconvenience to you, Lydia!"

The decrepit bar loomed before them as Lydia pulled into the dirt parking lot. She took a shaky breath and peered over at him. Her heart ached at the expression on his face. Clearly she hadn't been thinking about Peter as a concerned uncle who was worried someone might be working off an older copy of the deadpool and believe Derek's death would bring them riches. It certainly didn't occur to her there were very few people that Peter Hale could trust…and she was one of them. Lydia moved to unbuckle her seatbelt, "Peter, I—"

Grasping Lydia's hand immediately to still her, he shook his head. "Stay in the car and lock the doors until I come back," Peter commanded. Cupping her cheek gently, Peter forced Lydia to hold his gaze, "Do not leave the car for any reason, do you understand? I don't trust this crowd." Protectiveness surged through him; he would tear this entire town apart if anyone touched a single hair on Lydia's gorgeous head.

Lydia was taken aback by the intensity of Peter at this very moment. Chewing the bottom of her lip, she nodded swiftly, "I promise." He didn't look entirely convinced and she narrowed her eyes, gripping his hand tighter, "Peter, I promise!" She repeated, a bit more forcefully this time.

Peter reluctantly pulled away from her to go in search of Derek. He made sure she locked the doors as soon as he stepped from the car. Striding with purpose toward the shanty that Derek had chosen to get drunk in, Peter wrinkled his nose in disgust. The entire place reeked of body odor and urine mixed with the astringent smell of cheap grain alcohol. Last call had been at two but there were still a large collection of alcoholics milking their final drinks of the night. Despite the cacophony of scents clawing at him, Peter managed to catch Derek's and followed it toward the back of the establishment. Concern speared through Peter as he caught sight of his once-proud nephew leaned over, his head resting on the sticky bar. Slipping behind Derek, Peter clapped him on the back gently as he addressed the beefy bartender, "This one's mine."

"He's got to settle up," The bartender replied gruffly, pushing the tally toward Peter. Derek had imbibed far more than was prudent, even if he'd had a healing factor. The liquor here was cheap, thankfully, and the total did not exceed thirty bucks.

Peter dragged a fifty from his pocket and slapped it down on the bar with a bit more force than was necessary. "Keep the change." Something told Peter this wasn't the kind of place that he wanted to hang around for long. "Come on, then, up we go," Peter tugged a semiconscious Derek to his feet. Instead of staying upright, Derek kept falling forward and ended up crumpled on the floor in a heap at Peter's feet, murmuring unintelligible sentences. Gritting his teeth in displeasure, Peter thanked his werewolf strength for being able to drag Derek off the ground and shoulder his full weight. Dragging Derek back toward the car, Peter mumbled curses under his breath.

Lydia tapped her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. What the hell was taking them so long? The clock ticked closer to four am and Lydia frowned. Pulling the visor down, she grimaced slightly against the harsh orange light that illuminated her face. Once they tracked down the benefactor and things settled down again, Lydia vowed that she was going to take a long vacation that included nothing more than sleeping in, reading all the novels she had been dying to get to, and not thinking about anything related to werewolves, kitsune, hunters or banshees.

Tugging her hair into a ponytail, Lydia dug a hair tie from the cup holder to secure it. A heavy thump drew her attention from her hair and she turned to see a ruddy face pressed against her window. Hands came next, beating against the window in an attempt to get at her. Fear slammed through her as she opened her mouth, screaming until all the air in her lungs was gone.

Peter knew that scream anywhere. He tossed Derek over his shoulder like a sack of flour and took off like a shot. Dropping Derek unceremoniously on the ground, Peter ripped around the car. His eyes glowed vibrant blue as he dragged the man away. Fangs and claws erupted as he slashed blindly at the man who dared get anywhere near his Lydia.

Grasping at her beating heart, Lydia burst out of the car. "Peter!" She cried, "Stop!" There was no question in her mind that Peter was going to kill him. The smell of violence rose in the air as Peter tightened his grip on the would-be assailant. "I'm not hurt," Lydia slipped her hand over Peter's bicep in an attempt to calm him. "He's not worth it…look at him, he's a filthy drunk."

Every fiber of Peter's being screamed to shred this man into a useless pile of sinew and flesh. There was no doubt in his mind that if this man got his hands on Lydia, he would've hurt her or worse. Yet her gentle touch reminded him that she was in this Godforsaken place because of him. He needed to get her home safely, sooner rather than later. Still, there was no way Peter would let this jackass walk away unscathed. Peter delivered two punishing blows that dropped the man to his knees as he sputtered blood. Turning to Lydia next, he let out a low growl, "I told you to stay in the car!"

"I don't take orders from you, Peter," Lydia replied hotly. Stalking away from him, she slipped around the car to stand over Derek. Kneeling beside him, she touched his unshaven cheek gently. He was three sheets to the wind and would certainly not enjoy his first ever human hangover tomorrow morning. Lydia opened up the back door, her hand resting on her hip, "If he throws up in my car, I will destroy the both of you." She eased back into the car, arms folded in annoyance.

Peter lifted Derek and placed him in the seat; it took a little maneuvering but he managed to get his nephew buckled in with only minimal damage to either of their egos. Peter was immensely glad when Lydia put the car into reverse and got the hell out of Dodge. He peered over at her, drinking in the sight of her looking flushed and wild after the skirmish in the parking lot. Her heart was still racing as she took the familiar path to Derek's loft. When they pulled into the parking lot, he expected her to head for the hills the moment that he got Derek out of the car…instead, she walked around, carefully grasping Derek's head.

"Let's get him upstairs before he blows," Lydia whispered urgently. Peter did most of the carrying but Lydia cradled his head, breathing heavily as they ascended the stairs. She dug into Peter's pocket to obtain the key. Ignoring his hot gaze, she dragged open the metal door. "Take off his shoes before you put him in bed," Lydia instructed. "And make sure you lay him on his side. Otherwise he could choke if he throws up."

Peter did as Lydia asked without argument. Dropping Derek onto the unmade bed, he carefully tugged off his shoes before rolling him onto his side. Derek made a noise of protest, trying to flop over but Peter flipped him back, putting several pillows behind Derek to keep him from rolling around. Lydia padded into the wrecked kitchen and searched for a clean cup. After a futile search she washed out a mug to use and dug a couple ibuprofen out of her purse. Derek would definitely need them tomorrow. Stepping around Peter, she settled the offerings beside the bed. She quietly pulled the comforter from the bottom of the bed, shaking it out before settling it over Derek's passed out form. Even in his hazy alcohol-induced slumber, he let out a soft noise of pleasure and snuggled deeper into bed.

Lydia found herself smiling. "We should let him sleep. He's going to be very sorry tomorrow…let him enjoy the last of his first binge drinking experience." Peter followed her as she stepped into the living area. Cinnamon eyes swept over the disaster of a mess before her. She let out a soft sigh, "Whatever Derek is going through, he needs help. I've never seen this place so wrecked, even after Jennifer crashed through the ceiling." She frowned. "I know you've been preoccupied with trying to find the benefactor but tonight was a cry for help…"

Peter truly hadn't realized that things had gotten so bad for Derek. Sure, losing his werewolf powers was traumatic but Derek was always a pillar of strength. He agreed with Lydia's assertion that Derek needed help…but he simply had no idea how to do that. "I'm not sure what I'll be able to do," He let out a rumbling sigh, "Derek and I used to be very close but the fire changed everything…"

Lydia knew the fire destroyed much more than the house they'd grown up in…it also destroyed the Hale family. Those that died cut deep and etched deep scars within both Peter and Derek. For six years Peter had been trapped within his own body, growing madder by the moment; it had taken quite a long time for him to find some semblance of normalcy in his life. "You've had to overcome a lot, Peter. Use that experience to help Derek through this."

"If you hadn't noticed, emotional conversations about feelings aren't exactly my forte," Peter groused. He turned his gaze back to the bed. "If Talia were alive, she would know what to do." Without warning, anger stabbed through him. "I am not equipped to deal with this. Derek descending into depression, my daughter running around with Scott McCall and his pack of idiots, putting herself in constant danger—"

"I wouldn't let anything happen to Malia," Lydia interrupted. "Don't forget that I'm one of those idiots." She folded her arms defiantly.

"You are not the same, Lydia," Peter soothed. "You are brilliant. You have a solid head on your shoulders." His lips curved into a smile, "I would trust you with my life. I'm glad that Malia has you to look out for her."

Lydia chuckled ironically, "I think it's a dangerous bet trusting your life to a banshee. I'm a harbinger of death and destruction." Gazing up into Peter's eyes, she licked her lips, "I'll always look out for Malia. You can sleep easy knowing that I wouldn't let anything happen to her." That seemed to soothe Peter slightly. "I know you love your family deeply so use that to your advantage. Let them know you care and give them the opportunity to talk to you. Once you figure out the root of the problem, you can help Derek come up with a solution. You can't fix everything for him," Lydia explained, "But you can help him realize how to deal with it himself."

Peter ached to kiss her. The concern she showed for his family touched a part of him he thought was long dead. Tenderness flared in his heart before he had a chance to push it back down again. If not for fear of rejection, he might have done something about it. Instead, he put another step of distance between them. It was well after four in the morning now and he felt a stab of guilt that he'd dragged her from bed. "You must be exhausted…"

"Surprisingly, I'm not," Lydia replied. "I'm sure it'll hit me later but right now, I feel good." Peering around the house, she shook her head at the chaotic mess. "I'm going to clean up a bit around here." Maybe if Derek woke up to a slightly cleaner environment, it could help his mood some. Lydia flounced into the kitchen and sighed; there were dishes piled in the sink, some bananas that were on the edge of overripe, and something sticky on the counter where liquid had been spilled. She began with tackling the teetering pile of dirty dishes, turning her attention back to Peter. He'd already picked up a towel and was ready to dry and put things away. It brought a smile to her face, "Thanks."

Peter shrugged, "It's the least I can do." Watching Lydia tackle Derek's mess touched something vital in him. She could have—and likely should have—walked away as soon as she was done getting Derek to the loft. Instead, she offered to help in any way she could. There was a comfortable rhythm they achieved as she washed dishes and handed them to him. The task went quickly and soon he had placed the last plate into the cabinet. Lydia set about washing down the countertops and the stove. "Do you want some coffee?" He asked, digging into the pantry before coming up with a bag of grounds.

"That would be great," Lydia smiled gently. While Peter set about making coffee, Lydia dug through the fridge. "Everything is on the edge but I have enough ingredients to bake up some banana bread…" She sniffed at the cream a couple times. Derek had all the ingredients she needed and his bananas were perfect for the recipe.

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Peter chuckled, "Lydia Martin…is there anything you cannot do?" The moment he thought he had her pegged, she went and changed his mind again. At one time, Peter thought her a self-centered, narcissistic girl with her head in the clouds. He had preyed upon her weakness to bring him back from beyond the grave and she'd played perfectly into his hands. But Peter was realizing now it wasn't weakness that coursed inside her, it was compassion and empathy. Peter had seen beneath the façade and exploited that…guilt crept into his chest before he could stop it.

Derek's pantry was well stocked and Lydia got the sense that it was Peter's doing. Warmth began to creep into the kitchen as she preheated the oven and began mixing ingredients together. The scent of coffee fortified her as it dropped into the pot. Every once in a while, she felt Peter behind her as he collected a couple of newly cleaned mugs. Digging around for a pan, she felt her stomach tighten when Peter knelt beside her, "Allow me." He quickly found what she was looking for and handed it to her. Lydia blushed softly and busied herself with pouring the batter into the loaf pan.

With the banana bread in the oven and the coffee piping hot and ready, Lydia felt a sense of accomplishment. Adding a bit of cream to her coffee, she placed the carton back in the fridge. The banana bread would take at least an hour to cook and that gave her plenty of time to start on the living area. Tossing Derek's laundry into a hamper to be done later, she set about throwing away out old newspapers, empty Chinese food cartons, and junk mail. Every once in a while she stopped to sip her coffee and gaze at Peter. He placed important items aside for safekeeping before he took out several bags of garbage.

Already the apartment was a thousand times cleaner and Lydia didn't feel uncomfortable about setting her mug of coffee down now. While she checked on the banana bread, Peter poured her another cup without her even having to ask. She smiled at how he added the perfect amount of cream. "Thank you," She said softly. The soft scent of baked good began to permeate the apartment as sunlight broke through the murky grey light of dawn.

Peter stood at her side, shoulder to shoulder with her. "I should be thanking you, Lydia. You didn't have to do any of this…" That tenderness he felt for her was starting to spread through his body. He turned to face her fully, cupping her cheek. He watched her cinnamon eyes widen in surprise and her heartbeat kicked up in her chest. Bending down, he captured her lips sweetly. She tasted of coffee and something so sweet that he deepened the kiss to get a better taste.

Lydia leaned against Peter's chest, molding against his body. At first it startled her but the closer he pulled her, the more she craved him. Heat suffused her face and then burned lower, coalescing in the core of her. Her hands snaked upward of their own volition and she jammed her fingers through his short hair. Lydia felt her body grow weak and languid under his onslaught, a soft purr of pleasure emanated from her throat.

The animal instinct rose within Peter and he had to tamp down on the urge to ravage her. Lydia deserved to be thoroughly loved and worshipped. She needed to feel as if she were the only woman in the world; in Peter's eyes, she was. His warm hands rested over her hips, his forehead resting against hers as he pulled back ever so slightly. There was a profound sense of loss he felt not being connected to her but if he held on even a minute longer, he wasn't sure he could stop himself. Pressing a soft kiss to her temple, he closed his eyes.

Her breath came in soft spurts as she held tight to Peter for support. That kiss awakened something inside her…something that she'd never felt before. Peter affected her in a way that left her off balance. There was no lack of people around to remind her of what Peter truly was: a madman, a killer, a psychopath. Deep down, Lydia knew all those assertions were inaccurate. The real Peter Hale was standing in front of her. He was willing to do anything for family and was blindingly honest about his thoughts and intentions. He was genuine. He also had the control of a saint for being able to stop their kiss from getting out of control. Lydia was well aware that she would've happily fucked him on Derek's couch without hesitation. Clearing her throat several times, she tugged away, "I think the banana bread is ready." Praying that her legs would hold, she walked shakily into the kitchen.

Peter cursed softly. Lydia seemed disappointed and he couldn't blame her. Turning on heel, he stormed into the kitchen. "I want you," He growled, "But I don't want to rush. I don't want to worry about my nephew waking up and catching us in the act. When I make love to you, I want to take my time and explore every inch of you." His hand snaked out and he wrapped his arm around her waist again, "I want you to suffer such exquisite torture. I want every supernatural creature in Beacon Hills to know that you're mine."

Lydia let out a guttural noise that she wasn't even sure came from her at first. Every cell in her body screamed for leaned against the counter, her hand gently resting on her belly as the butterflies erupted within her. Her soft eyes were nearly dilated black with need. Gathering her strength, she took a step toward him again. Her fingertips traced the muscles of his chest, slipping down the hard plane of his abdomen. Her lips pressed to the pulse pounding at his throat. It was a bold move, she knew, and one that shifted the balance between them. "The banana bread is done, the place is as clean as it's going to get today, and Derek's settled…I should get home."

Somehow she lifted him to highest heights but he felt as if she'd crushed his heart to dust. He had offered her the world and she walked away from him. Lydia grabbed her purse and headed for the door, turning back a moment later. "Are you coming or not?" Peter felt as if he were on a roller coaster of emotion and he never wanted to get off. In two strides he was at Lydia's side. He kissed her ardently before he swept her into his arms. Carrying her all the way out to the car, the early morning sunshine beamed down over them, illuminating the glow of their eager faces.

Instead of driving back to her house, she headed toward the lake house. The moment she put the car into park, Peter's mouth descended over hers again. Climbing over the seat, Lydia settled into his lap. She gasped softly as his hands slipped up her hips, exploring the curves of her body. He kissed down her neck, the scruff of his five o'clock shadow scraped against her flesh deliciously. A moan echoed from the depths of her throat.

Peter was well aware that if he didn't move now he'd consummate their relationship in the front seat of a Prius, negating his desire to take it slow. Shifting, he opened the car door and lifted her again. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he ascended the stairs. "You're going to be the death of me…" Peter whispered throatily as they fumbled with the locks until finally the door gave way. He pushed open the door to the first bedroom he could find, laying her on the bed. "I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you in that negligee…"

Lydia was softly illuminated by the rising sun and she glowed with the anticipation of making love to Peter. As promised, Peter moved torturously slowly. He first divested her of her sweater and hung it on the back of the door; next he inched the leggings down her legs, also making sure they were set aside. Inhaling the heady scent of her, he ravaged her mouth again, "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Prove it," Lydia teased, her fingers toying with the buttons of his jeans. Beneath the fabric she could see how aching and swollen he was for her. Peter thought he was going to torture her with his sweet love…but Lydia had other plans. Ripping his jeans down his lean hips, she flashed him a feral grin. Grabbing his shirt, she pulled him over her and then pushed him back onto the bed. "I know what you want Peter…" Lydia purred, her fingers tracing down his chest. "What about what I want?" In one quick movement she ripped the v-neck shirt open, her eyes feasting on his nakedness.

Always the alpha, Peter balked at the position she put him in…for about half a second. Gazing up at Lydia's gorgeous visage in the soft light was enough to bring him to his knees. She could dominate him any time, any place…but he would always put up a fight. Sitting up, he captured her lips, his hands cupping the heavy weight of her breasts.

Chuckling dangerously, Lydia grasped his hands and pushed them back onto the bed. She clucked her tongue, bending to gently bite at his lower lip, "Did I say you could touch?" Lydia ground her hips against his, eliciting a throaty moan from him. "Hands to yourself, Peter, or I won't give you what you want." It was a new experience for Lydia but she was quickly finding that she loved being in control. In the dark of night she was the sweet, docile, subservient little banshee cleaning house and baking banana bread but in the stark light of morning, she let her true power shine through. Dragging her nails down his chest, just hard enough to tease, she kissed him again.

"For fuck's sake…" Peter groaned. He arched upward, losing himself in the moment. Lydia was a seductress the likes of which he had never met before. Every kiss was exquisite pain that intensified every time she pulled away. She moved downward, palming the most sensitive part of him and he nearly ratcheted off the bed. "You're playing a dangerous game here, love…"

Lydia's fingers slid over his abs, delighting in how he tensed. It was clear that his thread of control was fraying. A few minutes more and that legendary control was going to snap…and when it did, the results would be amazing. Her strawberry blonde hair tickled over his thighs. The roar that she was rewarded with was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. That legendary control snapped and he kissed her brutally.

Taking it slow was no longer an option. Lydia seated herself over Peter and she couldn't stop her head from lolling back at the exquisite pleasure of taking his length inside of her. Rocking against him, they cried out in tandem at the electricity that flowed between their twined bodies. Peter gripped her hips tightly, steadying Lydia as they reached fevered pitch.

Lydia was a goddess unrivaled by any other. Peter gazed up at her as she rode him mercilessly. There was nothing more powerful than having her in his arms now, her breath coming in labored gasps as she stole her pleasure from him. Never before had he allowed a woman, any woman, to ride him thusly. But this was Lydia: his woman, his mate, his queen, and, if he got his way, his wife.

Pleasure burned over Lydia's skin as she hovered over her mortal body, riding on a plane of ecstasy. The first of the tremors hit her and she lurched forward. If not for Peter's tight grasp, she would've been lost. He kissed her hard and she cried into his mouth as she rode out the most intense orgasm of her life. Peter was a master of control and even he could not hold back. The last shred of thought left Peter's body as he poured into the heart of her, flooding her womb without hesitation.

Even as their passion cooled, the flame did not go out. Lydia slipped to Peter's side, cuddling against his chest. His fingers tangled in her hair, thumb brushing over the silky strands. The sun rose higher in the sky but Lydia found herself yawning. "I think this just about makes up for waking me up in the middle of the night…but I may need more convincing after a nap." The sex was the best in her life by far. She tried to blame the decisions she made on her tired brain for making poor decisions…but the rest of her body knew, Lydia belonged in Peter's arms for the rest of her life.

Peter chuckled at the mischievous grin on her face. Pressing a kiss to her lips, he pulled the blanket around them, "Rest now, darling. I promise I will atone for all my sins in due time." He would do so happily…for the rest of his life. It only took a few minutes before Lydia's heartbeat and breathing were slow and even. She slept so peacefully in his arms. It wasn't long before his eyes closed as well. In this very moment, everything was perfect.

Across town, Derek jolted awake. After nearly an hour was spent worshipping the porcelain gods, he staggered back into the bedroom. It struck him how clean the place looked and he didn't have to be a werewolf to smell banana bread in the air. The water and tablets at his bedside were a welcome relief. His stomach roiled and his head was pounding terribly. He'd never experienced anything so horrible all his life. Padding into the kitchen, he pieced together the mystery slowly. Peter had dragged him home and placed him in bed…but there was the touch of a woman here. The dishes had been washed, the laundry put in the hamper, and the old takeout containers thrown out. He wracked his brain. Memories were coming in bits and flashes until he finally settled on one…Peter hollering at Lydia to get back in the car. Lydia was the one who cared for him? Derek let out a groan as he plopped back onto the bed. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he stared up at the sunlight casting shadows on the ceiling. The more he thought about his uncle and the banshee, the more it started to make sense…and the more it started making sense, the more convinced Derek became that he'd lost his mind. Rolling over, Derek pulled the covers over his head again. This was a brain-teaser for another day. For now, Derek simply accepted that the universe worked in very mysterious ways.


End file.
